


butterscotch

by melotune



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Short Story, heart: broken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:46:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25375639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melotune/pseuds/melotune
Summary: the land of love, the land of home.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	butterscotch

**Author's Note:**

> hihi! this is another very short story i wrote at exactly 1257 hrs in the morning so expect randomness and maybe errors. i wouldn't put it past me. 
> 
> 지나가.
> 
> \- jo

the muffled talking paraded the streets, flowing past with the Paris air helping to push what it could. regular busy bodies carrying themselves in the wind found solace in a contraption underground, wanting to travel as fast as the wind would let them. 

the land of love was filled with strung souls and entangled passions, thousands of covenants wanting to bind their hearts, wanting to become one. in the end, the night would draw to a close, with the wind carrying a new light, a newer day. 

the first time she felt her heart tug, it was fall, early november. the sound of her boots scuffing against the gravel became fuzzy, the repetition of the day drawing to a start. further and further she trailed in the bends of the early morning light. her head was down, immersed in the colours of the ground. she brushed against someone's shoulder, noticing too late this encounter, and quickly brought her head up, her mouth already formulating a sincere apology. but just as fast as her eyes flew up, her mouth shut close. she stared at the most warming pair of jewels she had crossed. butterscotch tinted eyes met hers, eyebrows coming to a furrow. her heart felt heavy suddenly, and deep inside the string began to slowly stir up and outward, towards those butterscotch pair of eyes. 

the first time she had questioned the butterscotch's beauty, they were walking the outskirts of the river Seine, taking in the sights of the entangled. some resting in perfect silence, some laughing with a loudness, some spending time with the rest of the family, and some watching nature entertain itself. she was watching a sight, the sight, ramble on about their recent findings of the world, dawning a feature of excitement on their face. her fingers created a desire of their own and reached for the opposite's hand, craving the softness. she was met with an unusual coldness to their fingers, immediately reaching back towards the more familiar warmth of her hands. a question arose, "why cold hands? i thought they were the definition of warm, i thought-". turning heads, they locked eyes, and all her questioning then faded as she lost herself to the warmth of them once again. 

the first time she had experienced heartbreak, it was a simple conversation. a conversation she never knew she would have. first, it was the question. 

"can we talk?" 

then, the good came first. 

"i'd like to think i enjoyed every moment i've spent with you."

then but right after. 

"but i can't do this anymore. i'm not happy. i don't think i ever was."

not with her. 

"not with you."

she kept staring at the pair of butterscotch eyes, hoping to see the warmth she first saw on that chill of a early november morning. but as she kept glaring, leaning in more and more to see deeper and deeper, she felt nothing but a chill race down her spine, telling her the answer to her desperation. maybe it was something she thought she saw. maybe it was a hallucination. a figment of imagination. but the truth was already revealed:

the warmth was never there. never was.


End file.
